Planet of the Blind

It is time now to admit my folly, admit my easy seasonal delusion, for as the “Holidays” are upon us, and as ever, I become bluesy in a reliable way. I think things like: “Nobody loves me but my mother, and she could be jiving too.” Or: “I see my coffin comin’ Lordy Lord in my back door…” 

And the terrible Christmas music plays in all public spaces–an auditory toothache; worse really, for you can pull a tooth and once its gone the mind forgives memory the experience–not so with Bing Crosby singing of figgy pudding for God’s sake, that figgy pudding works its way around the dendrites of memory like a snail crawling on broken glass. You will never get rid of Bing. He’s a barnacle on the Superior Colliculi. 

I trudge about, thinking of my dead parents, who were hard to live with in life but I miss them all the same; think of my dear dead friends gone too soon; and feel bleached of spirit by the aggressive, bloody monolith of capitalism and its sugar tit music. 

For poets, philosophical ideas are all potential lovers as Charles Simic said while writing of Emily Dickinson. 

For me, well, the music of this infernal season is like a repo man. Bing Crosby can’t have my soul. It’s not here right now, you can look throughout the house with your pestilential Christmas music leaking out of your pockets. Go on and look. My soul is in some villa outside of Florence, pretending to be Enrico Caruso. 

By Andrea Scarpino

 

I like to think we all come to the cemetery for our own reason, the older man who lingers by a grave not far from his car, the power walking women, their arms swinging with purpose and strength, the teenage boy cutting through to the woods—even the white doe, who I imagine enjoys the sanctuary, the quiet space in the middle of town where hunters aren’t allowed, where the dead are mostly quiet.

 

I learned to ride a bicycle in the cemetery near our house in Massachusetts, its wide, near-empty streets the perfect place for my step-dad to remove my bicycle’s training wheels. One memorable early trip, giddy with my own independence, I pedaled farther and farther away from my mom and step-dad as they pushed my brother in his carriage. I remember the wind in my face. I remember laughing. And then I turned around to see how much distance I had covered, and rode straight into a tree. I remember lying in the grass gasping for air, and my step-dad arriving finally to pick me up, set my bike upright.

 

Almost every time I’ve gone to Paris, I’ve made a special trip to visit Montparnasse Cemetery and the graves of Simone de Beauvoir and Sartre. Cigarettes, metro stubs, pieces of gravel, handwritten notes, a copy of one of their books, are always placed carefully on their graves. In Pere Lachaise, Oscar Wilde’s tombstone is covered with lipstick kisses and flower bouquets. In New Mexico, my friend Kate brought me to a cemetery near Georgia O’Keefe’s home: dry desert landscape, overly saturated blue and purple silk flowers, gravestones cracked as if by the heat, cactus growing around untended plots. We took photograph after photograph, sun bearing down around us. In Morocco, I was about to step through a cemetery gate when a woman pulled up in her car, waved me over, told me I shouldn’t go inside because women had been raped in there. I heeded her advice, peered over the stone gate, and walked away.

 

Almost every place I’ve visited or lived, I’ve found a cemetery to spend an hour, an afternoon. I’ve done grave rubbings, moving charcoal across white sheets of paper to see the gravestone’s image magically emerge. I’ve listened to Halloween stories of famous murders and suicides told by animated storytellers, my back pressed against a gravestone. I’ve listened to orchestral music, picnicked, brought flowers for my father, pushed the strollers of kids I was babysitting. And when I need some perspective, some exercise, I walk through Marquette’s cemetery, watch for red-headed woodpeckers, the white doe, watch the Mallard ducks and Canadian geese. Watch the other cemetery walkers, imagine what we each want from our visit, what we each hope to see.

 

The Madwoman and the Blindman

Jane Eyre, Discourse, Disability

 

Edited by

David Bolt, Julia Miele Rodas, and Elizabeth J. Donaldson.

Ohio State University Press, 2012.

 

Drawing on the work of disability theorists, as well as scholarship in women’s studies, deconstruction, autism studies, masculinity studies, caregiving, theology, psychoanalysis, and film studies, the contributors to this new Anglo-American book suggest that disability may have a more pervasive, subtle, and textured place in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre than has previously been acknowledged, guiding us to an enriched understanding of the novel and of the meanings and functions of disability. With previously unpublished contributions from Lennard J. Davis, Margaret Rose Torrell, D. Christopher Gabbard, Essaka Joshua, Susannah Mintz, and Martha Stoddard Holmes, this is the first book to apply disability studies to a single literary work.

 

The book is now available and shall be the subject of a panel at the forthcoming MLA conference in Boston.

 

For further information, please contact:

 

Dr. David Bolt

 

Director, Centre for Culture & Disability Studies

www.ccds.hope.ac.uk

 

 

National Federation of the Blind Condemns Amazon’s 
Push to Put Kindle E-books in Schools

 

Blind Americans Will Protest at Amazon Headquarters

 

Seattle, Washington (December 4, 2012): In protest of a recent push by Amazon.com to put Kindle e-books, which are inaccessible to blind students, into K-12 classrooms across the country, members and supporters of the National Federation of the Blind will conduct an informational picket at the company’s headquarters on Wednesday, December 12. The action comes on the heels of Amazon’s launch of Whispercast, a system designed to allow teachers and school administrators to push Kindle e-books to different devices, theoretically allowing the sharing of content among devices brought to school by the students.  Kindle content, unlike some other e-book products, is not accessible to blind students, even on devices that are themselves accessible to the blind, such as personal computers and iPads.  This is because Amazon makes Kindle content available only to its own proprietary text-to-speech engine, if at all, rather than to accessibility applications of the reader’s choice.  Furthermore, the limited accessibility features that Amazon has implemented do not allow for the kind of detailed reading that students need to do in an educational setting. Although the books can be read aloud with text-to-speech, the student cannot use the accessibility features of his or her device to learn proper spelling and punctuation, look up words in the dictionary, annotate or highlight significant passages, or take advantage of the many other features that Kindle devices and applications make available to sighted students.  Kindle e-books also cannot be displayed on Braille devices, making them inaccessible to blind and deaf-blind students who read Braille.

 

Dr. Marc Maurer, President of the National Federation of the Blind, said: “Amazon has repeatedly demonstrated utter indifference to the recommendations of blind Americans for full accessibility of its Kindle e-books and failed to follow the best practices of other e-book providers.  Blind Americans will not tolerate this behavior any longer.  While we urge Amazon to correct the many obvious deficiencies in its implementation of accessibility and remain willing to work with the company to help it do so, we will oppose the integration of these products into America’s classrooms until Amazon addresses these deficiencies.  Putting inaccessible technology in the classroom not only discriminates against blind students and segregates them from their peers, but also violates the law.”

 

For more information on this important issue, please visit www.nfb.org/kindle-books.

 

Encounter At The Market: Veteran’s Service Dog
(The Chattanoogan)
December 4, 2012

CHATTANOOGA, TENNESSEE– [Excerpt provided by Inclusion Daily Express] After a trip to the Chattanooga Market today, I would like to thank a member of the Chattanooga police department, Sgt. Mike Smith for his assistance. His knowledge of the ADA laws in regards to service dogs came in handy.

My husband is a wounded veteran; wounded twice in Afghanistan and medically retired from the Army over a year ago. He recently acquired a service dog and takes him just about everywhere he goes.

Today we decided to go the market downtown and, of course, the dog came with us. My husband and I entered the market and were approached by one of the vendors who informed us that pets were not allowed inside. My husband provided the documentation specifying his dog as a service animal. Although the gentleman insisted the dog needed to be wearing a placard or vest, he took the paperwork provided as proof and allowed us to enter the market.

Not all disabilities are readily apparent. My husband doesn’t use a wheelchair or any other device and appears, to the casual observer, to be perfectly normal but things are not always as they appear. People would do well to remember that. You never know what is under the surface.

Due to his disabilities he doesn’t often go where there are crowds. After this incident he felt harassed and discriminated against and attempted to communicate without getting upset, which is hard for him due to his disabilities.

Entire article:
Encounter At The Market – And Response
http://tinyurl.com/ide1204126

Yesterday’s Senate defeat of the United Nations charter on the rights of people with disabilities is easy to dismiss as an instance of the Tea Party’s influence on 38 rightward leaning Senators–politicians so frightened by re-election they’re willing to pander to contemporary know-nothing-ism. A variant of this small “d” democratic impulse at rationalization is to say that the Senate has occasionally been worse–one has only to recall the influence of the KKK in our nation’s affairs for example. (In fact the Tea Party bears a considerable resemblance to the Klan with its rabid and narrow view of American exceptionalism.) I can’t say if things are worse now than when Harry Truman was young and was advised to join the Klan if he wanted a political future; I’ve no idea how hateful and deep the present strain of America’s reactionary provincialism is. What I do know is that I have a bad case of Huddie Ledbetter’s “Bourgeois Blues” with a decidedly crippled strain. I think of Leadbelly singing: “Hey all you colored people, listen to me, don’t you ever try to build no home in Washington, DC…”   

 

One can say, “Well, we have the ADA here at home–the failure of the Senate to ratify an international treaty that would bring those rights to other parts of the world doesn’t mean anything, really.” Dear Senator Grassley: I recall being denied entry to an Italian church because of my guide dog. Recall being denied access to a hotel restaurant in Milan. Senator Grassley, you apparently don’t give two straws about my rights to travel abroad with dignity as an American citizen. In fact, given your long standing opposition to disability rights, it’s clear you think that disabled people should shut up and live in a back room on the family farm and stop bothering you. Senator, you are a party hack. The idea that voting for a United Nations charter would in any way interfere with American law is false but you used it–you used it to suborn the rights of people all over the world who are striving to follow America’s lead. To you and your 37 colleagues who voted down one of the noblest exercises in human rights in global history I say simply, you are pandering to the same forces that historically animated the political arm of the KKK–shallow, paranoiac, isolationist vitriol. And that’s the best thing I can say. How can you look Bob Dole in the eye? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have to! You can walk right around him since he’s using that wheelchair. Senator Grassley, you’re a just a saucebox: an impertinent and petulant fellow. That you’ve cultivated this in lieu of statesmanship means of course that you are a wantwit–a fool. In this age of international relations and globalization you and your 37 buggy cohorts represent a dangerous tendency in our politics, for you want us to simply leave the world, not as leaders but as dark and toadying neo-Fascist romantics. I’ve lived in Iowa, sir–I’ve always thought you a dullard, but never a dolt. And who am I? I’m just one of the 56 million people with disabilities in these United States. That’s all.

CQ NEWS

Dec. 4, 2012 – 12:30 p.m.

 

Senate Rejects U.N. Disabilities Treaty

By Sarah Chacko, CQ Roll Call

 

The Senate on Tuesday rejected a resolution to ratify an international treaty that sets global standards for the treatment of people with disabilities.

 

Senators rejected 61-38 the U.N. Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (Treaty Doc 112-7), a pact signed by the United States in 2009 and sent to the Senate for ratification this May. A two-thirds majority of those present and voting, 66 in this case, is required for adoption of resolutions of ratification. Eight Republicans joined Democrats in voting for ratification.

 

Former Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole, R-Kan., who lost the use of his right arm in World War II, was present on the Senate floor during the vote. Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., asked members to vote at their desks, a ceremonial gesture reserved for historic occasions.

 

Signed by more than 150 countries, the treaty addresses the equal rights of persons with disabilities. Parties to the treaty agree to “undertake to ensure and promote the full realization of all human rights and fundamental freedoms for all persons with disabilities without discrimination of any kind on the basis of disability.”

 

In September, 36 Republican senators signed a letter saying they would oppose any efforts to consider treaties during a lame-duck session. The letter did not say the lawmakers would oppose ratification of any particular treaty.

 

All but one of the Republicans who signed the letter, Scott P. Brown of Massachusetts, also voted against ratification. Mark Steven Kirk, R-Ill., who did not sign the letter, was absent.

 

Critics said ratifying the treaty could hurt citizens domestically, opening up the states to lawsuits based on international laws regarding parental rights and home schooling that are different from those in the United States. Senators such as Jon Kyl, R-Ariz., and James M. Inhofe, R-Okla., who opposed the treaty have been skeptical of a committee established by the treaty to review reports submitted by countries on steps taken to implement the treaty’s provisions.

 

Proponents of the treaty, such as John McCain, R-Ariz., said U.S. laws already afford many of the protections called for in the treaty and ratification of the treaty would not affect U.S. law.

 

The committee created by the treaty can only make recommendations, said Foreign Relations Chairman John Kerry, D-Mass.

 

The Senate Foreign Relations panel approved the treaty by a vote of 13 to 6 in July, with Republicans Richard G. Lugar of Indiana, Johnny Isakson of Georgia and John Barrasso of Wyoming joining Democrats in support.

 

“When have words or suggestions that have no power, that cannot be implemented, that have no access to the courts, that have no effect on the law of the United States and cannot change the law of the United States, when has that threatened anybody in our country?” Kerry said.

 

The consequence if Congress rejects the treaty is that the United States could lose credibility for refusing to participate in a treaty that asks other nations to live up to its standards, Kerry said.

 

Opponents said the United States is already a “gold standard” and does not need to open itself to the scrutiny of the United Nations.

 

“These unelected bureaucratic bodies would implement the treaty and pass so-called recommendations that would be forced upon the United Nations and the U.S. as a signatory,” Inhofe said. “We don’t need the United Nations bureaucrats changing it in our country in the name of worldwide application.”

 

Thus encouraged, Oliver tapped at the study door. On Mr. Brownlow calling to him to come in, he found himself in a little back room, quite full of books, with a window, looking into some pleasant little gardens. There was a table drawn up before the window, at which Mr. Brownlow was seated reading. When he saw Oliver, he pushed the book away from him, and told him to come near the table, and sit down. Oliver complied; marvelling where the people could be found to read such a great number of books as seemed to be written to make the world wiser. Which is still a marvel to more experienced people than Oliver Twist, every day of their lives.

‘There are a good many books, are there not, my boy?’ said Mr. Brownlow, observing the curiosity with which Oliver surveyed the shelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling.

‘A great number, sir,’ replied Oliver. ‘I never saw so many.’

‘You shall read them, if you behave well,’ said the old gentleman kindly; ‘and you will like that, better than looking at the outsides,–that is, in some cases; because there are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts.’

‘I suppose they are those heavy ones, sir,’ said Oliver, pointing to some large quartos, with a good deal of gilding about the binding.

‘Not always those,’ said the gentleman, patting Oliver on the head, and smiling as he did so; ‘there are other equally heavy ones, though of a much smaller size. How should you like to grow up a clever man, and write books, eh?’

‘I think I would rather read them, sir,’ replied Oliver.

‘What! wouldn’t you like to be a book-writer?’ said the old gentleman.

Oliver considered a little while; and at last said, he should think it would be a much better thing to be a book-seller…

 

**

Oliver has it exactly right. It’s much better to sell books than to write them. 

Thanks to poet Seth Abramson for mentioning my forthcoming collection of poems Letters to Borges in his review of the best new books of poems for The Huffington Post.

Here’s a poem from the book:

For Anyone At All

After the clock was done with noon

The boy leapt up like a crow

To land in the great dictionary.

Like an ape he tore the pages,

Applied some paste with a stick

Until he held a doll of sorts,

A puppet made of words.

He could hear the neighbor’s

Children at a window: Hey

Blind boy—find us where we are!

Come on and guess!

He waved the pages then,

Making them bow and rise

Like nothing you will ever see.